My Life As A Woodchuck

It’s one of those day. Nothing works. Nothing looks right. My technologies are failing me. I am both annoyed and annoying.

I am trying to track down other indie author-publishers. OMG, there are thousands of us, each more anxious than the next about which marketing tool will be the key to fame and fortune (or at least a few sales). And circling around are all the businesses who want to make a buck off our anxieties — hawking their wares, regardless of how effective they are. Right now my fellow indies are preoccupied with Amazon key words (you tag my book; I’ll tag yours), book videos (you watch mine; I’ll watch yours), and Twitter (you follow me; I’ll follow you). It’s exhausting.

My instinct is never to be part of a flock. Not a good goose.  More of a woodchuck — keep to my own hole, stake out my little patch of weeds.

But instincts can be wrong. I worry about that.

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